Breaking the Perfect Circle
Shinsou Vaan Osiris rested his head against the cool metal of the Whitevale office door, sighing. He wondered what he was going to say to his friend, and second in command, Arius. With the candles extinguished, the sunset crept in through the open curtains, casting the ceiling a rusty grey.
Outside, the night shift watched the horizon like hawks; twelve guardsmen loyal to his cause trying to defend his township against any threat that bore their arms against Shinsou’s and Storm’s fortress. Tonight, the significance of any such threat paled so much compared to his current problem that the idea of going outside to turn out the guard, or demand written reports, had slipped into a level of triviality that put such things almost beyond caring about. Shinsou’s hand ferreted around in his pocket for the letter he had been given. It was one of many such scraps; encrypted notes passed from his Brotherhood spies to him, for his eyes only. This complex network of agents he had set up was so secret that even Storm Veritas knew nothing about them, and they had been set up for one purpose and one purpose alone.
To find Arius’s kidnapped son, Cyrus, and the organisation that had him; Perfect Circle. In charge of that group; the notorious slaver Luppe Wilde.
Months of misinformation, bad informants and red herrings had turned up nothing, even for the best of Shinsou’s intelligence officers. Whilst the Brotherhood scurried around Salvar, feeding off of table-scraps of rumours, Luppe and his men moved around like phantoms. Perfect Circle were a well organized, well funded slaver gang and remarkably good at keeping their operations covert, and even as Shinsou surrounded himself with the best in their respective fields, he realised soon enough that Luppe Wilde was better. It was absolutely infuriating.
Now though, on a bit of torn, bloodstained paper no larger than a beer coaster, words scribbled hastily leapt off the page at him.
â€PC, GWE, NWâ€
Shinsou believed the lead meant something.
With a sudden jerking movement the Telgradian stepped back and opened the door, the cool air of his council chamber rushing in. He turned, locking the door in three places, and paced to his illustrious fur lined chair at the head of an oblong table, neither looking left nor right, yet having complete awareness of the figures gathered there. There was a man on the corner nearest him fronting all sorts of documentation and maps for the Shinsou’s perusal, and an aide rounding the corner to present what appeared to be some sort of letter. The candles in the chamber were all lit up. The spellsword’s feet moved over the floor tile cracks, his body casual, his ears taking in every sound before he seated himself and the rest of his cabinet sat down.
“Anyone good at abbreviations?†The Telgradian asked, gesturing to the five other seats ahead of him.
The man on the corner, Harper Malley, coughed. “Another cryptic clue?â€
Shinsou stopped fidgeting in his chair and shook his head silently. “No, I believe it’s more than that. You'll understand why shortly.â€
There was a nod from Harper, the subtle message received, his red seersucker suit flashing garishly under his soaking slicker. The other four men followed suite.
Clutching the note produced from his pocket earlier, the Telgradian pushed it up the table towards Harper. The analyst gathered up the parchment and read the letters out aloud, flapping his lips abruptly. As Harper digested the small tidbit, Shinsou’s eyes gazed out through the only window in the room. Oppressive clouds had rolled over the town as soon as the sun had touched the horizon, ending the day before its full time had been spent. Now the clouds were beginning to empty their cargo out all over the city, flooding the streets with sudden ponds and streams that swelled and splashed up the pants of the few guards on the streets.
"Well," Harper eventually said, turning to the bald man beside him and passing on the note. "PC has to be Perfect Circle. GWE and NW, though, I don’t have a clue.â€
Shinsou, peering up at his analyst through the darkness, frowned and shook his head.
"From what limited intelligence we were able to gather, and I do stress the word 'limited', GWE could be an abbreviation of the Great White Expanse. It’s a portion of northernmost Salvar that shelters the Crimson Hand’s fortress, the Seventh Sanctum. I have confirmation from one reliable source that Perfect Circle once supplied them with slaves, but no one either knows or are willing to tell me where or how this happens, or if it even still does."
"What's NW?" the bald headed man piped up. The monk-like fellow read aloud again, as if dictating to the table a second time would make it any clearer.
I have no fucking idea. Shinsou thought to himself. "I was hoping one of you may be able to come up with something. Originally I thought it might be "northwest", but that doesn't tally with anything as the northwest corner of the GWE is a wasteland. Harper, any thoughts?"
"I'm terribly sorry for the interruption, Shinsou," The aide from before cut in, leaning forward, handing Shinsou a sealed envelope "This was just delivered by envoy to our gates. It's seal matches that of Perfect Circle’s emblem." Shinsou blinked several times and sighed, patting the table with his hand.
"We'll continue this later. In the meantime, I want every possible iteration and abbreviation of NW. I want to know what it means, and I want to know yesterday, because I have a feeling that those two letters are the key to unlocking this whole problem."
Harper, and the bald man, nodded, giving a half-hearted bow to a seated Shinsou, who looked pensive. The bald man sighed, and raised his arm. "Lead on," he said, and the four were off. They slipped away, not giving notice to anyone, hoping that Storm Veritas didn't catch a whiff of their departure and send a lightning bolt after them.
As the remnants of the cabinet exited the chamber, Shinsou sat alone, his letter knife tearing through the wax seal with the Perfect Circle coat of arms. Written in measured cursive, the message sloped across the page.
Quote:
Dear Brotherhood dogs,
If Arius ever wants to see his boy again, he, Shinsou Vaan Osiris and one nominated escort will come alone to Knife’s Edge. There, in a house on the fringe of town marked with red cedar fencing, an exchange of 100,000 GP will be made for the boy.
You know me well enough to know not adhering to these demands will result in dire consequences.
L. Wilde
The Telgradian continued to examine the letter as thoughts filled his head, his fingers combing through his thick, chestnut hair. He stalked the empty chamber like a lion circling prey. His mind spun, trying to process the note and Luppe’s demands. Even if they got the gold, what was their play? It would never be as simple as an exchange. This was about luring them into a trap, and wiping them out without giving anything away. Naturally, Luppe wouldn't be there either. Why? Because even he, with all of his arrogance and power, was smart enough not to pop his head over the parapet. Especially if he was still working for Lye Ulroke.
But, if they could get as far as Knife’s Edge without incident, it was possible to turn the situation around. For that, Shinsou had a plan. He knew he would need to make his nominated escort someone very special indeed.
So, finally calming down, the Telgradian seated himself once again and reached for his quill and parchment, and minutes later had etched the order for Hayate Amatsukami to be summoned to the Whitevale barracks.
